


Flicker

by Tsuki_Amano



Series: 365 Stucky Shots [35]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Skinny Steve, Supernatural Elements, Tony being a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-08-23 14:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8331745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsuki_Amano/pseuds/Tsuki_Amano
Summary: There aren't a lot of things that Steve Rogers is afraid of (too few, his mother would probably add), but something about his new apartment unsettles him.It might be the looming shadows and the flickering lights. Or maybe it's just the way he seems to be closing more doors than he opens.Even his attractive (if only a bit antisocial) new room-mate isn't enough to make his stomach stop turning. Because the footsteps that resound down the hallway when he's alone at home are a bit unnerving.





	1. Chapter 1

There’s something not _quite right_ with his new apartment. Steve can’t put his finger on what it is exactly.

Maybe it’s the way the door creaks no matter how many times he oils the hinges.

Maybe it’s the way the wiring in the dingy kitchen is so terrible that he’s had to replace the toaster, the water heater and the microwave.

Maybe it’s the way that his new flatmate Bucky, a barista who seems to hate all human interaction, sees nothing wrong in eating week-old Mac ‘N’ Cheese, even though it’s far past the point of safe human consumption.

Or maybe it’s the way he feels that he’s been closing a lot more doors than he’s been opening.

The thing with the apartment was, it was dirt cheap. A simple two-bedroom accommodation with attached bathrooms, a kitchen space and living room, all within his budget. It was like a dream come true and when he’d shown up for the viewing, the only that he had been struck by was how mundane the place seemed.

It was in a relatively quiet area of town, close enough to the bus stop that he could comfortably get to and from work. On the third out of five floors, the apartment was nestled in the corner of the building, unassuming in its location, but just beyond the reach of the corridor lights. The real estate agent had shrugged when he’d pointed out that the white tube light above the door was flickering ominously.

“It’s not attached to the property itself, Mr. Rogers, I have no real information about that. I’m sure that’s something you could take up with the Owners’ Association if you wanted.”

Inside, the place is what he could only describe as bland. The walls are painted cream, the few pieces of furniture that the old owners have left behind are an elegant mahogany. He inspects the kitchen and his bedroom, making appropriate noises as the realtor points out features that he really doesn’t care about.

Steve knows he’ll sign the lease.

He needs the apartment because it’s close to his new job and he starts work in a week. Now that his initial plan of living with Sam had fallen through, this was the next best option.

The move into his new place took the better part of a day. Sam and Riley help him shift his stuff in and at the back of his mind, he wonders if he’ll bump into his elusive neighbour. He’s heard the other man come in once or twice, but he’s not seen him yet.

That evening he takes out the last of the cardboard boxes and makes his way up the stairs. He’s planning what he’s going to do for dinner when he reaches the turning to his apartment and he notices with a start that the front door is wide open. That strikes him as odd because he’s sure he closed it and from what he can tell, his flatmate is normally meticulous about it as well.

He supposes accidents happen. Entering his new home for the next two years, he shuts the front door behind him and locks it.

The fluorescent white light flickers erratically as he does.

The next morning, as he makes himself breakfast, his flatmate wanders into the kitchen. Steve learns that his name is Bucky Barnes, he’s working as a barista nearby and that he’s taking a year off from school. He also learns that Bucky has a sense of humour that can be sharper than the knife he’s using to dice onions with, and that even though the man seems to despise all other forms of life, he’s actually a really nice guy.

(At least that’s what he gathers when Bucky presses the last of his own supply of milk into Steve’s hands, ignoring his protests because Steve hadn’t got any for himself).

Bucky’s about to leave for work when it strikes him.

“Hey man, I uh, don’t mean to pester you about this on the first day, but, just make sure you close the front door behind you alright?”

Surprised, Bucky turns around and stares at him, “I always lock the front door. It’s a force of habit from when I was a kid.”

“The door was open last night though.” Steve insists.

Bucky turns around completely now, gaze focused on Steve. “Pal, I wasn’t even at home last night. I had a late shift and then went to a friend’s place to spend the night. Are you sure you just didn’t forget to lock it properly? The lock’s kind of dodgy, it sometimes needs a little special attention to get it to work right. I’ve been meaning to get it fixed but I, uh… haven’t been able to afford it just yet.”

He says the last part sheepishly, rubbing his wrist with his opposite hand, and Steve hastens to reassure him, “Hey no, don’t worry about it. That’s something we can look at together, that’s why you’ve got a new flatmate right? And you’re right, I didn’t realise about the lock till you told me, but I must have not closed it tight enough or something. Sorry about bothering you with that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Bucky says, shaking his head, “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

That’s the last time he thinks about the door for the rest of the week. Between his new job as a writer for a local newspaper and settling in to his new apartment, it’s the last thing on his mind. Sometimes, Steve finds himself missing home, missing his small cramped apartment where his mother lived, which among other things, was well-lit and where the shadows in the corridor didn’t seem to loom threateningly in the nights.

Bucky makes the move easier. They eat dinner together sometimes, when their schedules don’t clash and Steve listens to Bucky complain about the people he meets during his shift. It’s always amusing to hear him emphatically complaining about customers as he waves his hands around the room, sometimes narrowly avoiding knocking over his plate.

It happens one night when he’s talking to Sam.

“I’m telling you man, there’s no way I’m blowing money on a new laptop. There’s nothing wrong with the one I have right now.”

“Steve, the one you have right now is hanging on by a thread.”

“Sam, come on…” He’s cut-off by what he swears is the sound of footsteps down the corridor leading to the living room.

“What the heck?” he wonders aloud, switching on his room light.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asks, alert now that he can hear the worry in Steve’s voice.

Forcing himself to sound normal, he says, “It’s nothing. It’s just been a long day, just thought I heard someone walking down the hallway.”

“Maybe it was Bucky?” suggests Sam.

“Can’t be. He’s not home for another hour at least. I’m going to go check it out alright?”

Sam sighs frustratedly over the line, “Man, if you hang up that phone before you tell me what’s happening I will personally drive over there to kick your butt into the next week.”

Swallowing thickly, Steve makes his way quietly to the living room.

Only to find that there’s no one there. Unsettled, he rushes back to his room and locks his room door, before telling Sam that he didn’t find anything.

“Do you want me to get Riley to call Bucky and ask him to come early?” Sam asks and really Sam is the best friend ever because he doesn’t even question Steve for a second.

“No it’s ok. He’ll be back soon anyway.”

Sam changes the topic, switching over to the game from last night and doesn’t hang up till Steve hears the front door unlock and Bucky walks in.

He’s about to switch off his light and go to bed when he hears Bucky pause outside his own door and inhale sharply.

Curious, he leans forward and presses his ear to the thin wall just in time to hear his flatmate mutter, “What the… That’s weird, I could have sworn I closed this door when I left.”


	2. Chapter 2

He’s in the kitchen washing up dishes when he hears the faint strings of his ringtone. Bucky looks up from the sofa where he’s typing away on his laptop and asks, “Do you want me to get that?”

Shaking his head, he switches off the tap and wipes his hands on his jeans.

By the time he gets to his room where his phone was, it’s stopped ringing and he checks the caller ID, smiling when he sees it’s a missed call from his mom. He can’t describe how much he’s missed living with her and he unlocks his phone, getting ready to call her back.

He’s midway through the action, when he notices what appears to be a black blur move down the hallway.

Pausing, he listens carefully for even the slightest noise. But he can’t hear any. Bucky’s still in the living room, he can hear the man typing away furiously at this laptop.

Letting out a deep breath, he walks back into the living room and sits down heavily on the sofa. Bucky lifts his head up and looks concernedly at him.

“Everything ok Steve?” he asks.

And no, thinks Steve, _everything isn’t ok_. Because either there was something really wrong with their apartment or there was something really wrong with him and he wasn’t ok with either of those things. There’s no way that he can frame the sentence without sounding like he’s paranoid. Thinking carefully, he asks, “Hey Buck, you’ve lived here for a while before I did, right?”

Bucky raises and lowers one shoulder, “Not by much. I moved in a month before you did. Why do you ask?”

“Uh, it’s…it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it ok?”

Sure, Steve’s a lot closer to Bucky than he was when he moved in but there’s no way he can ask Bucky what’s on his mind. Because he’s not even sure of what exactly is on his mind, and he doesn’t have the faintest idea of how to begin asking it.

Bucky looks at him sceptically for a few minutes, and opens his mouth as though he wants to say something but decides against it.

“Alright man, if you’re sure. But I’ll tell you one thing, you look kind of pale. Forget about the dishes yeah? I’ll get them when I’m done with this.” When he sees Steve’s about to put up a fight, he waves off his concerns and says, “Seriously, you can help me get the groceries or something instead. For now, put your feet up and keep me company. You work too hard.”

So, Steve sighs and forces himself to push the doubt that’s beginning to grow in his mind to the back of his head.

That night, Bucky lays on his bed and tries to fall asleep, but for some reason he can’t. His mind keeps replaying Steve’s face from earlier that day. He looked, for lack of a better word, scared, but Bucky didn’t know of what.

But that was the problem, Bucky couldn’t help but think to himself, as he rolled over in his bed.

Maybe he did know what Steve was scared of.

In front of him, his cupboard doors were wide open, even though he had just closed them less than an hour ago.

* * *

 

“Hey Bucky do you remember how many eggs we have left?” Steve asks, letting his hand linger over the tray in the shelf.

“Err… I don’t know. Just pick it up I guess; we always could use more eggs.” Bucky says. He’d forgotten to make a grocery list to go shopping. Well, more than forgotten, he’d never used a list when he lived alone, but Steve refused to let him live off Kraft any longer so here they were.

Rolling his eyes good- naturedly, Steve picks up a tray and places it in their shopping cart. “You’re a menace Bucky Barnes.” But he’s smiling and lightly nudges Bucky’s shoulder with his own.

Bucky wheels the cart down the aisle behind Steve and turns left towards the vegetable section like they had planned, only to realise that Steve’s not following him. He turns around and sees Steve standing in front of a stack of long tube lights, examining them carefully, turning over a box in his hand.

He glances up and when he notices Bucky’s attention, he comments, “They’re not too expensive. I was thinking we could get one and replace the light in front of the apartment. It’s going to get darker once winter sets in, and I don’t think it’d be very safe if there’s no proper lighting.”

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Bucky recalls the one time he’d tried to bring up the same thing with the President of the Association in their apartments. A portly old Russian man, he’d told Bucky that they had no funds to replace the light and if he wanted to fix it so badly, he could buy the bulb himself. His tone had left no room for argument and Bucky hadn’t wanted to create trouble so he had left shortly after.

“You speak Russian?” Steve asks curiously and Bucky stifles a smile because he can’t believe that’s what Steve picked up from his conversation.

“I used to live in Russia when I was younger, just for a few years. I picked up some of it.” It’s nothing exciting really, some family from his mother’s side had decided to take him in for a few years and he’d taken the opportunity. It had been a miserable three years and he had moved back home the second he could and never once looked back.

“Well,” Steve says decisively, “We’re buying our own lightbulb so there’s nothing they can say to us now.”

Chekhov looks amused when Bucky and Steve approach him, and he tells Bucky, “It’s your wasted money, if you want to burn it away, who am I to stop you?”

When Bucky translates the message for Steve, he blinks and says, “What does he mean?”

It takes a little longer than before to completely translate what Chekhov is saying because he can’t quite grasp some of what the other man means. But he’s soon able to explain to Steve, “He’s saying that they’ve tried to change the light bulb before, I think for inspections that the council sometimes mandates? But every time, within a few weeks, they find that the bulb starts to flicker or completely burns out. It’s something even past tenants have complained about.”

“Haven’t they ever bothered to call an electrician? It sounds like faulty wiring.”

“They did, or at least some of the previous owners did. But they couldn’t find anything wrong. It’s just, uh, how do you say it, bad luck?”

He drags Steve out of there before he can start a fight. For a little guy, Steve’s a real spitfire.

He ignores the way Steve’s muttering darkly under his breath about shoving the old light bulb into a very uncomfortable portion of the President’s anatomy. But Bucky puts his foot down when Steve says he wants to change the light bulb that evening.

“Absolutely not.”

Steve looks outraged and actually puffs up so Bucky hastens to say, “Not before we call an electrician ourselves. Look, I think your idea is great, but if Chekhov’s right and there is dodgy wiring involved I’d rather get someone to look at it before we go fiddling about alright?”

“Fine, I suppose you have a point. I think there was a list of numbers for maintenance and repair that I got when I moved in. If you call the electrician, I’ll put away the groceries and make dinner.”

The electrician picks up on his second try. He’s almost fixed up the date and time for the man to come and look at their wiring until he tells the other man their address. There’s a silence on the other end of the line before the man says, “That the place on the third floor? Place in the corner of the building with that damn light that won’t stop flickering?”

“That’s the one.” Bucky says cautiously.

“No way pal, save yourself the money. I’m not coming down there again.”

“What? Why not?”

Steve’s standing next to him now, arms crossed over his chest and he stares inquisitively at him.

“Look, the last time we came up there, we couldn’t find anything wrong with the place ok? We tested every single plug point and socket we could find and the voltage and current readings are perfectly fine. There was literally nothing out of the ordinary. We tried replacing the wires, the bulbs and a couple of other things. After two weeks of hard work, we couldn’t find anything that would suggest a problem.”

“That was what, six months ago? Things could have changed since then.”

“You couldn’t pay me enough money to set foot in that place again.”

“Do I get to ask why not?” Bucky asks.

“Honestly? Off the record, there’s something weird about that place. Came down there with another couple of guys from the company. All three of us, we felt like there wasn’t something right with that place, like there was something in there that didn’t want us around. And look, we’re professionals, so we stayed on, didn’t want to leave before we got the job done, you know? But Dustin, one of the guys who came in with me, he was up on a ladder looking at the damn bulb holder, and something pushed him off that ladder. Damn near broke his arm. I’ll tell you one thing kid, if you were smart, you’d take my advice and not bother about changing the light bulb. You’d call a priest.”

The electrician hangs up after that and Bucky’s left staring at the phone in his hand for a few seconds.

“What did he say?” Steve asks from next to him, breaking the silence.

“He said he wouldn’t be able to make a trip over here.”


	3. Chapter 3

They end up calling another electrician. He’s a portly old man, with a cheerful smile that only slightly wavers as he tries to fix the troublesome light-bulb. His brow furrows as he removes the new light-bulb and checks the voltage. “It’s odd,” he says slowly, “There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with the readings as such, it’s just occasionally, you get a spike in the output reading.”

He checks the remaining sockets on the floor and the furrow in his brow gets deeper. Apparently, none of the other sockets seem to show the same problem.

“Is there any way I could check the mains for your entire building?” he asks.

Bucky looks at Steve and shrugs, because there’s no way Chekhov will be pleased.

As he predicted, Chekhov scowls at them and mutters angrily under his breath, he’s unhappy about having to be disturbed. However, after a small argument, he produces the key to the electrical supply room.

It’s clear once they enter the room that the money they pay towards rent is not going towards maintenance and the electrician’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline as he notes the condition of some of the wiring.

Leaning towards Bucky when Chekhov is distracted, he whispers, “This has to violate at least 5 Council laws. If you ever need something done, call an inspector down here and get this sorted out, alright son?”

Bucky just nods helplessly. All he wants is for this visit to get over so he can go back to his apartment and return to pretending that nothing is wrong.

Once they find the outlet leading to their apartment, the electrician checks the ports while Chekhov looks on disapprovingly. He hums and haws over the wires and his readings for a good five minutes before turning to Chekhov and saying, “Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong. At least, there’s nothing that I can identify. Sorry boys, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for you.”

With a triumphant gleam in his eyes, Chekhov snatches back the keys and ushers them out of the room.

“See,” he says, “I told you. There is nothing wrong.”

Bucky notices Steve almost vibrating with fury out of the corner of his eye and places a hand on his shoulder warningly.

When they’re back at their apartment, thankfully without Chekhov, Bucky tells Steve he’ll pay the kindly electrician and ushers him inside. He notices that the smaller blond man looks tired and wan and doesn’t want him exerting himself any more than he needs to. It speaks volumes about how tired he is when Steve agrees, thanking the electrician for his efforts before heading inside.

Reaching for his wallet, Bucky’s surprised when the electrician stops him. “I’m not taking any money for this son, after all, I couldn’t really do my job, could I? Don’t try and argue, I’ve got a son about the same age as you and I know how difficult money is at your age. Now, here’s the thing. I didn’t want to mention it in front of that horrible fellow who seems to run the place, but I did notice something when we were downstairs. The line that leads to this light-bulb, there’s something odd about the way it works, the output voltage seems disrupted somehow. Now, I’ve never seen anything like it myself but I can tell you that it was strange. And here’s the stranger part, there was another apartment, just down the corridor, that seemed to have its entire voltage working in the same way. You might want to ask the folks in there if they’ve noticed anything dodgy.”

“What was the number of the apartment?”

“It was 49B”.

After they have dinner, the pair make their way over to the other apartment and ring the doorbell. Bucky listens closely as a disjointed melody plays, before it cuts off in the middle. They wait for several minutes but no one answers and as much as they listen, there doesn’t seem to be any movement from inside.

Raising his fist to knock on the door, Bucky’s stopped by Steve’s voice.

“Buck… I don’t think there’s any point.”

He stops at the waver in Steve’s voice.

Nodding to the doorway, he points out the thick layer of dust that coats almost everything.

“It doesn’t look like there’s been anyone in and out of here for a long time.”

The welcome mat that lies in front of the door is almost falling apart and as he stares at the door, he realises that the handle and the lock are rusted. The windows are coated with a thick layer of grime and he can’t see any sign of light through the small gaps in the curtains.

“Let’s just forget it pal,” he says, slinging an arm over Steve’s shoulder. “It really isn’t worth all this effort.”

As he steers Steve back to their apartment, he feels as though someone is staring at them walk away, and he turns around for a brief second.

He can swear that the curtain had shifted just the tiniest bit.

The rest of the week passes in a blur and Bucky ignores the gnawing feeling that something is wrong. He spends more time with Steve, potentially a by-product of them both being terrified. They have dinner together every night and almost all mornings, they have breakfast together. And that’s when Bucky finds that he has a new problem.

It’s in the way he notices the sunlight glint off Steve’s hair in the mornings when he’s pouring milk on his cereal, and the way he scrunches up his nose when he picks out the chunks of bell pepper from their take out. It’s in the way his heart beats just a little more fiercely when he’s around the smaller man.

Bucky Barnes is falling hard for him. And he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

The first time that he’s genuinely worried about their safety, he’s alone in the apartment. Steve’s off at work and he’s got the morning free. After spending breakfast trying not to look too star-struck as he stared at Steve’s face, he washes up the dishes and decides to grab a quick shower.

As the stream of hot water eases some of the residual tension out of his muscles, he listens to a song on the shower-proof radio they’d invested in a few days ago. Lathering up his hair, he allows himself the luxury of humming along to the peppy tune and leans back into the spray to rinse out the shampoo. As the song peters out, he shuts his eyes and lets the sound of the falling water soothe him.

And that’s when he hears it.

It’s faint, but he can distinctly hear the bathroom door open slowly, the hinges creaking as it moves.

* * *

 

At his office, Steve leans back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head and groaning as his joints pop.

“You know, that’s actually bad for you.”

Steve looks up and grins as Tony, his co-worker, heads over, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He props himself up on the edge of the desk and looks at Steve with a critical eye. “Have you been sleeping?”

“Isn’t that a weird question to be asking me?” Steve quips back. He knows that Tony pulls all-nighters more often than not and you can usually tell how little sleep he’s had based on how buzzed he is.

“Don’t try and deflect. I stay up because of my job. I know for a fact that you still don’t have any assignments that would be keeping you up late and you’re not seeing anyone either. So, spill it. Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

“What is this, 20 questions? Geez Tony, I’ve just been having some trouble… Hang on, how’d you know about what articles I’d been assigned? Don’t give me that look, I’m not changing the topic.”

Looking vaguely sheepish, the other man says, “I may or may not have looked at your work files?”

“Tony, weren’t those classified?”

“Pfft, have you seen the level of encryption that they use? A five-year old with a calculator and some spare time could access those files.”

“You hacked them?” And maybe Steve should be a little angrier and more offended but he can’t help but get an idea.

Bucky’s in the living room when he gets back, rushing in excitedly with some papers in his hand and that’s the first sign that something’s wrong. Because Bucky had a shift and he almost never skips work, because right now he honestly can’t afford to.

The next sign that Steve gets is the fact that all the lights in the living room are on and Bucky’s curled up on the sofa under what looks like every blanket they own.

“Everything ok pal?” he asks cautiously, sitting down slowly next to Bucky. There’s a look in his eyes that Steve can’t quite place, but it reminds Steve of a hunted animal and if Steve was pressed to name the look in one word, he’d call it terror.

Shaking his head, he presses himself close to Steve and says it’s nothing.

“Bucky,” Steve says slowly, because his friend is spooked and this is clearly not nothing.

“I don’t want to talk about it ok?” and there’s a note of pleading in his voice, which makes Steve change the subject.

“So uh, one of my friends at work, Tony, I've been with him to the bar we went to the other day? Well, promise you won’t get mad, but I kept thinking about what that electrician said about flat 49? And I knew Chekhov was going to be of no help at all, so I thought, what if we could get their phone numbers or something? Maybe we could find some way to contact the people living there. Uh, well, I guess the nicest way of saying it is that, Tony, he uh, has a way with computers? And he may or may not have pulled up the occupant details of everyone living in the apartments.”

“Steve, isn’t that illegal?”

“Come on Buck, between you and me, this entire apartment is probably illegal. This was the best I could do on such short notice.”

“What did he find anyway?”

“Well, that’s the interesting bit. So, the electrician was sure that there were electrical fluctuations in that room, right? According to records, no one’s been living in that apartment for almost two decades. Initially we thought that there might be squatters in the room and that would explain the fluctuations, but Tony helped me scan some of the security camera footage for the last two months. There hasn’t been anyone in that apartment. At least no one that we can see.”

“But then how is someone using electricity in that apartment?”

“I have no idea. Tony had to get back to work, and all we could find out were the names of the last residents.”

“What were they?”

“The last people who lived there was a couple. Their names were Natasha Romanov and Bruce Banner.”

             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was my Halloween post. Which I should have finished today but it's a pretty big festival where I live so I haven't finished it yet.
> 
> Happy Halloween though to everyone who celebrates it!


	4. Chapter 4

The scream he wants to let out is lodged in his throat, cutting off his air supply and making him feel dizzy. He pushes himself back, away from the mirror and gasps, shakily trying to call Bucky for help. As he edges away towards the wall, his foot slips over the bathroom rug and he slips, landing on the floor with a resounding crash.

He’s twisted his ankle, he realises with a start as a throbbing pain spreads throughout the area. _He can’t get up._

* * *

 

“You know, I’m pretty sure it’s against company policy to use work resources for personal affairs.”

Steve hurriedly exits from the page he’s looking at and swears under his breath when he sees Tony standing next to his table. He tries his best to not look guilty but he knows it’s a lost cause. For some indiscernible reason though, when Steve looks back up, Tony looks more amused than anything else.

Leaning back casually, Tony crosses his arms across his chest and says, “It’s to do with that weird apartment of yours, doesn’t it?”

“Is there any point in me pretending it doesn’t?”

Tony raises an eyebrow at him.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are we going to go back and forth till I finally wheedle out the truth from you? Because let me tell you, the second option will save us a lot of time and energy.”

Sighing, Steve looks away and tries to imagine where to start. Bucky was already sort of annoyed that he had gone to Tony. And if he was being honest with himself, he knew why. It was hard to explain to someone who wasn’t living in their apartment just what was so weird about it. To anyone else, it sounded like the pair was slowly losing their grip on sanity. Bucky knew that if they trusted the wrong person, they ran the risk of being mocked and being made spectacles of.

But Tony’s brown eyes are warm and concerned and somehow Steve knows he can trust the man. Taking a deep breath, he explains what’s been happening over the last few days, including the conversation they’ve had with the previous electrician. By the time he’s done, his heart is thudding and his mouth his dry. He doesn’t dare look up at Tony in fear of what he’ll find. Thankfully though, Tony breaks the silence first.

“That’s terrifying. I mean, even assuming that this is just one, massive misunderstanding, it’s concerning on several levels.”

“You, you believe me?” Steve knows his eyes are wide with disbelief.

“I believe that you believe you’re telling the truth. I don’t exactly think the supernatural is something to be taken too lightly, and if nothing else, as a journalist, the unexplained interests me. Have you managed to track down previous owners of the apartment that you’re living in?”

Shaking his head, Steve replies, “There are next to records of whoever was living there. We found two couples’ names, but the first couple has apparently taken a sabbatical to the rainforests of South America. They’re unreachable by any form of communication.”

“And the second?”

“The moment they heard where we were calling from, they hung up and refused to pick up our calls.”

“Huh… That’s pretty unnerving.” Tony rubs his chin and all at once, Steve feels a rush of relief at the support his new friend is offering. His relief grows even more when Tony adds, “There’s got to be something we missed somewhere, don’t stress Rogers, we’ll figure it out.”

“Thanks Tony, I really appreciate it.” And he does. Between his hectic work schedule and his strange home life, he’s not had the chance to make many friends or meet a lot of people besides Bucky. And although he’s not a very social person, he misses the time he used to spend with Sam and Riley, talking about nothing and everything.

Patting his shoulder, Tony grins, “Don’t thank me yet. Wait until I find something. Speaking of which, what about those two people we found the other day?”

“I searched for them.”

“And?”

“I couldn’t find anything on them. From the looks of it, they don’t seem to exist.”

“That’s not possible, they have to exist. We found their names and signatures in that record entry.”

Shrugging Steve says, “Maybe they didn’t give their own names when they signed the lease? All I know is, I couldn’t find any trace of them anywhere.”

Frowning, the brown-haired man replies, “That’s just frustrating. I’ll tell you what, let me take a crack at it and I’ll tell you what I find.”

“Tony, honestly, are you sure? I mean, I can’t ask you to do any of this for me…”

“In case you haven’t noticed Rogers, you haven’t asked me. So, like I said, let me worry about this one.”

Steve opens his mouth to protest further but his phone chimes. Looking at the caller id, a small smile slips onto his face when he sees who it is.

“Is that lover boy?”

Flushing, Steve replies, “What no, no it’s only Bucky.”

“That’s who I meant. Come on bud, you can’t tell me you haven’t had a few not so innocent thoughts about him. He’s got the whole brooding angle working for him.”

“It’s just,” he rubs his fingers over the phone slowly, “I do like him, don’t get me wrong. But with everything that’s been happening, I feel like romance is the last thing on my mind.”

There’s something in Tony’s eyes that he just can’t place, but there’s a soft smile on his face when he stands up, “Don’t worry Steve, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

When Tony’s left, Steve checks his message. _‘Are you at lunch yet? You won’t believe the day I’m having! Met the most obnoxious lady at work today >.< Miss you! P.s. Do you want Chinese take-out for dinner today?’_

Laughing, Steve unlocks the phone screen with a swipe and begins to reply.

* * *

 

They’re both curled up on their beaten-up sofa in the living room watching re-runs of some nature documentary when Bucky tentatively brings it up.

Steve’s pretty sure he stops breathing for a second because he couldn’t have heard correctly. Bucky couldn’t have said that he wanted to find a new place to live. He realises with a start that the other man is still speaking and listens in, “I mean, there’s an emergency termination clause in there that I’m sure some of the earlier residents have used. And frankly at this point, I’m starting to think I wouldn’t even mind losing my deposit, I’d rather just have my sanity and peace of mind. I found a few places which are really close from here and I thought we could take a look at them this weekend if you wanted?”

Snapping out of reverie, he blurts out, “Hang on, you want us to both move out together?”

By now, Steve’s learned some of Bucky’s non-verbal ways of communicating. The bashful inclination of his head and the way his hands fiddle with the hem of his shirt are both clear signs he’s sheepish and unsure.

“I…I couldn’t let you stay here by yourself.”

He shifts over so he can feel the heat from Bucky’s body seep through his shirt, leaning against his side and smiles, “I guess I’ve got plans this weekend then.” The smile that stretches over Bucky’s face makes his heart hurt with how beautiful it is.

An hour later, he decides to shower before calling it a night. After hearing about Bucky’s experience, he leaves the door wide open and they’ve both unofficially decided to check in on each other at regular intervals.

He’s done showering, the warm glow of the evening outweighing his earlier negativity. Switching the water off, he wraps a towel around his waist and walks to the sink to brush his teeth. That’s when he notices it.

There’s something dripping from behind the mirror he realises. From behind the mirror, near the top, a liquid steadily drips out, the drops increasing in their speed. He realises with a start that the drops are a dull red. Stepping back, a sudden movement in the mirror catches his eye and he watches horrified as the shower curtain shifts. A black shadow appears behind the curtain, its form indiscernible. It presses itself to the curtain, and slowly begins to tug it open.

His brain screams at him to run and that’s precisely when his limbs decide to stop cooperating with the rest of his body and he trips.

He thinks he might cry out of fear, when someone hauls him up from under his armpits and pulls him out of the bathroom. The next thing he knows, he’s out of the apartment and Bucky’s pulling him towards the elevator. Once inside, he tugs off the sweatshirt he was wearing and pulls it over Steve’s head before reaching down to yank off his jeans. Catching Steve’s expression, he smiles humourlessly and says, “I’m wearing boxers. The last thing we need to do is get arrested for public indecency.”

Handing Steve the jeans, he averts his eyes politely and fumbles with cell phone to call Sam, explaining to him in a terse voice that they need a place to stay the night. Luckily Sam doesn’t press for details and before they know it, he and Riley have booked them a cab which will be there in less than five minutes.

Steve doesn’t notice he’s shivering till the other man wraps his arm around him and pulls him close.

“You’re ok Stevie, we’re ok. I swear. I don’t know what the hell that was back there but you’re ok.”

And if Steve tries really hard, he can almost believe what Bucky is saying.

                                                                                                                                             

* * *

 

Sam takes one look at their faces and ushers them in, sending Steve off with Riley to get a clean change of clothes. He takes Bucky into the kitchen and puts a pot of coffee to brew. Shaking his head, he says, “Steve was supposed to move in with me, that was always the plan. But then Riley and I got engaged and he didn’t want to intrude. If I had just forced him to move in with us…” He cuts off, taking a shaky breath, “If it was anyone else, I’d say they were lying. But it’s Steve. I’ve known him forever.”

As he pours out the steaming brown liquid into four mugs he says, “I suppose one good thing came out of this. If he hadn’t moved into that godforsaken place, he would have never met you and you’d have had to deal with this by yourself.”

Lying on Sam’s spare bed with Steve that night, he idly lets his fingers trace circles on Steve’s back.

He thinks of some of the stories he heard as a kid, maybe the talk of them leaving made it mad. He doesn’t know what happened tonight. He just knows he’s scared.

The next morning, when his alarm rings, he groggily turns to switch it off, smiling as Steve blinks sleepily at him. His blond hair is akin to a bird’s nest and his eyes are still shut.

“I should call Tony,” Steve says after they bask in the silence, “I don’t think I’m going into work today.”

Bucky doesn’t think he should go in either. Steve dials Tony’s number using Bucky’s phone, he blushes and informs him that he’s Steve’s emergency contact at work and waits until the call goes through.

When Tony picks up, he sounds confused and Steve winces, because it’s actually really early.

“Everything alright?” Tony asks and Steve fumbles for an answer.

“I…uh… Not really?” He curses under his breath because he’s aware of how he’s made it sound. He hastily adds, “I sprained my ankle and needed to rush out to the doctor’s. In the hurry, I left my phone at the apartment and can’t call into work today. Do you think you could let them know I won’t be coming in today?”

There’s a pause from the other side of the line and a crackle of static.

When Tony replies, he sounds strange, but says, “As long as you’re sure that’s the only reason you’re not coming in. I’ll let them know. I’m actually going to be on leave for a few days, but I’ll see what I can do. By the way, I found some stuff on those people we were looking up.”

“Really? That’s great Tony!”

“I can’t talk for a long time, but I’ve left my notes at my apartment with my girlfriend. Her name’s Pepper, just tell her I sent you and she’ll give them to you. I’ll text you the address. And don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m going to text you the number for our office. I might not be able to get through to anyone and don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Wait, Tony what’s going on, are you ok?”

“I’m fine, just need a little vacation is all. One too many all-nighters. I’m going to be soaking up the sun and surf in Hawaii for a bit.”

Now that he thinks about it, Tony’s voice does sound a little strained.

The crackling on the other end grows louder and Tony hurriedly bids farewell. Steve can’t quite shake the feeling that he’s missing something important.

Over breakfast, Sam and Riley both agree that he should leave the apartment. “You can shift your stuff over here until you find a new place,” Riley assures them.

“Riley and I can help you move your things out too. Look, even if there isn’t anything going on, I just think we could all do without the stress and mental anguish this place is causing you.”

It’s soon decided that Bucky and Steve will first go over to Tony’s apartment and get his notes. Once they’ve seen what they can make of the papers, they’ll head over to their own apartment along with Sam and Riley and start packing what they can. Sam had volunteered to get packing supplies from Staples. They’d stay the night and finish packing and get out tomorrow as soon as they could.

Bucky and Steve catch a cab to go to Tony’s apartment and Steve hurriedly shoots off a message to work telling them he’s on leave for the next few days. By the time they’re at Tony’s door, they’re both nervous and on edge. Raising his hand to press the doorbell, he catches Bucky’s eye and watches as the other man nods.

They have to do this, he realises. They have to know.

A pretty red-haired woman opens the door, and her eyebrows raise when she hears that Tony sent them.

“He… he never mentioned you,” and Steve can’t help but wonder at the slightly faraway tone in her voice. She disappears for a moment and comes back with a thin folder.

“I don’t know how much this will help, but these are the only papers of his here.” They can tell she’s not too eager to talk to them any longer and make their leave.

“Did that seem strange to you?” Bucky asks Steve as they make their way down the staircase.

Steve just shrugs, leafing through the papers.

Suddenly, he inhales sharply.

“What is it?” Bucky asks. “Steve, what… you’re shaking. Do you need to sit down, ok no sit down I’ll get some water…”

“I’m fine Buck, it’s just. Tony found them. He was right, they did exist.”

“Who did?”

“The old tenants from flat 49. Bruce Banner and Natasha Romanov. Except, Natasha’s real name is Natalia Romanova. And according to this police report, she was married to Bruce. Only a year into his marriage, he changed. Almost like he had a split personality. The police never really could find an explanation into it, but they say a close friend of Bruce’s passed and he snapped. Apparently, he killed her and then he killed himself out of grief. Except she wasn’t completely dead and she pulled her way to the door, just managing to pull it open before she died.”

* * *

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning : Mentions of character death, general creepiness and a potential plot twist at the end.

By the time they reach their apartment, it’s getting dark. Neither of them have said much and Steve can’t help but keep looking over his back. All he wants is to get out of this place and leave and never come back. His phone vibrates in his pocket, Sam and Riley have reached too. They meet in front of the lobby and head up to their floor, making sure to steer clear of Chekhov. Sam sees the file in Steve’s hand, but he also registers the way his friend has gone pale and knows he should avoid the topic.

Outside their apartment, as Bucky unlocks it, Sam nods up at the flickering bulb, “I guess you weren’t kidding about that thing huh?”

Inside, they turn on as many lights as they can. For a moment, there’s only silence before Riley asks, “So how do you guys want to do this?”

Looking at Steve, Bucky replies, “Let’s go room by room. Once a box is full, two of us can take it down. Given the situation, I say we stick to a buddy system and under no circumstances do we remain alone.”

Riley swallows and frowns, “So we’re really going with the theory that there are… Yeah ok. Sam and I will start at that end and you two can start with these books and stuff.”

The four work in silence and all the while, Steve can tell Bucky’s on edge just like him. Every time a door creaks, every time there’s a rustle of the wind, he stills for a second and his fingers clench. Steve can’t blame him. At one point, a cat screeches from the parking lot and Bucky starts, his hand banging against the wooden table. Steve takes it gently in his own and squeezes his wrist.

“It’s going to be fine,” he whispers.

“Yeah, I guess so. But, let’s just keep moving all right pal? My ma, she always used to say, _Don’t count chickens that aren’t hatched yet._ ”

Sam and Riley have just taken down a huge box, the living room much more barren when something starts scratching at the door. Bucky’s hand covers Steve’s mouth and nose and he pulls him closer, indicating with a finger in front of his face that he shouldn’t make noise. The scratching continues for a few moments and then it stops.

Silence has never seemed so glorious as it did now.

Removing his hand from Steve’s face, he lets the blond man slump against his side and asks, “Sam and Riley have your key, right?”

“Yeah, they do. Why?”

“There was a folk tale when I was little. These things, they can’t get in unless you let them. As long as we don’t give them permission, they can’t get in.”

“But what about all those other times?” _When the doors were opening by themselves_ , he leaves unsaid.

“Remember what we read in that report? I think that was Natalia, and she was trying to warn us. Maybe she’s been trying to give us a message this whole time.”

“A message about what though Buck?”

Before he can answer, the door handle rattles and Bucky pulls Steve to his feet, hauling him behind his back. The door swings open and Sam and Riley stand in the door. Sam takes one look at the pair in front of him and slams the door shut, locking it behind him.

“I take it something happened here too?”

“You’re not wrong…wait a minute. What do you mean too?”

Leading Riley away from the door, Sam leans on the edge of the sofa near Bucky and says, “We passed by that other apartment you were telling us about on the way back, 49? And it was the weirdest thing, but one of the drapes was open. And here’s the strangest bit, there was a light on. I didn’t stop to get a good look at it, but it looked like…”

“Like an old table lamp with a moss green lamp shade?” Steve interjects.

“Yeah, how’d you know that?”

“Because according to the police report, that’s what Bruce used to kill his wife.”

Riley sits down heavily and says, “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m not sleeping tonight.”

Steve manages a weak smile, but he knows they’re all worried. “I think we should hold off on the packing till tomorrow morning,” he says slowly, “Does, uh, does anyone want dinner? We’ve got a few things in the fridge?”

Sam nods and follows him into the kitchen to help him bring the food out. The four eat on the couch, with a random sitcom they’ve found playing in the background. Riley offers to wash the dishes, but Bucky shakes his head and tells him to forget about it.

“So, what else do those papers say?” asked Sam. Leaning back, Bucky throws an arm across his eyes, “We haven’t had the time to look.”

“We’ve got the time to look now.”

Bucky’s not sure he wants to. But there’s a small part of him that’s curious and it gnaws at him until he shifts so he’s closer to Steve. From this distance, he can feel Steve’s body heat seeping through his clothes and he struggles not to shuffle even closer. Instead, he contents himself with reading over his shoulder, sitting close enough that their arms are pressed together.

“It says here,” Steve says squinting, because some of the handwriting in the police report is fairly messy, “That Bruce was a lecturer at a local University. He focused mainly on nuclear physics and he was really smart too considering the fact it seems like he had tenure and everything. He met Natashenka, or Natasha as she’s named in some of the reports, at a ballet recital and they ended up getting married. They say nothing was strange for the first few years of their marriage, nothing to indicate that he’d be violent.”

“But one of Bruce’s friends passed away and psychiatrists that were consulted say that the grief was enough to change him and make him more aggressive. He started showing signs of physical violence and he sort of slipped into rages.”

“What’s this foot-note here?” Bucky asks, pointing at something.

“It’s a number, I think it’s a page number.” Steve says, turning a few pages. When he stops, Bucky notes that the pages look different and the writing isn’t completely in English. He frowns at the Cyrillic alphabet and takes the papers from Steve’s hands.

“My Russian’s a bit rusty, when it comes to reading, but this is an interview with Natalia,” he says. “It’s, ah, before they died. I think, she was filing a domestic violence report? Wait no. The police had called her in for questioning because a neighbour had reported a case of domestic violence. But she insisted it wasn’t Bruce. I think, the report’s not clear here, she was saying it wasn’t her husband, that she believed that he was different somehow. Possessed is the word she used.”

“On this page, it’s the report from an investigation into their apartment, and it says they didn’t find much. But this note on the bottom, it’s by a junior officer, and he says they found a board, a…what’s it called, a board they use to talk to spirits?”

“A Ouija board?” Sam asks, “Dude that’s messed up if it’s true.”

He’s about to say something when he freezes and stares at something in the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks, sitting up straighter.

“Man, I’m going to sound like I’m losing it, but wasn’t your room door closed?”

Steve refuses to look at the notes after that, and he, Sam and Riley instead decide to watch a movie. Mid-way, the scratching on the front door resumes and then handle starts to shake. The four freeze and stare up at it, but no one moves. After a few minutes, there’s a loud thudding against the door and Riley shakily stands up. He goes close to the door and looks out the peephole.

“There’s no one there.” He says, then he jumps back with a shout, “The entire hallway’s gone dark. All the lights have gone out.”

“Get away from the door Riley,” Sam says, “And let’s just stay here for a while.” Half an hour later, they’ve fallen into an uneasy sleep and Bucky reopens the papers quietly. He reads Natashenka’s, no, Natasha as she had wanted to be called, statements, about Bruce’s growing temper. From what she said, she truly believed that her husband had been taken over by another person. Some of the police reports talk about the crime scene and he skips over those, not being able to stomach it.

When a door inside the house creaks, he starts and the papers jerk inside his hands. Something flutters to the ground and when he’s sure nothing is going to appear in the living room, he picks it up. It’s a photo, he realizes, one of three people. It looks like it had been collected from the other flat, and it showed the couple in happier times. Natasha is held in Bruce’s arms and she’s laughing, while Bruce has a fond smile on his face. One arm is loosely draped over someone else’s shoulders and the photo is blurry so it takes him a second for it to register who it is.

He doesn’t sleep that night.

When the sun peaks through the curtains, he rouses the others from their sleep and tells them to keep packing. “Shove the essential stuff into four boxes and some bags,” he says gruffly, “And forget about the rest of it. We’re getting out of here before noon.”

Sam doesn’t question his change in demeanour and nods, leaving him and Steve to work on their bedrooms, as he continues with the living room and kitchen.

“What’s wrong Buck?” Steve asks a little later, when they’re almost done.

“It’s nothing,” he replies, eyeing his closet. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just go.”

He refuses to say anything and they leave the front door, he turns back and for a split second, he can swear he sees someone at his door. He closes the front door firmly behind him.

When he’s walking down the corridor, Steve sucks in a sharp breath and says, “Bucky, look.”

The door to flat 49 is wide open.

“That right there is our cue to run away,” Bucky says decisively. But before they can take more than a few steps, there’s a loud scream from inside and Bucky stops. They know that voice, it’s Chekhov.

As much as he wants to grab Steve and haul ass, he can’t. His conscience doesn’t allow.

They put their boxes down and approach the open door cautiously.

“Chekhov,” he calls out and when there’s no response, he tries again in Russian, “ _Are you in there_?”

He hears it, faint but loud enough for him to discern what’s being said, “ _Help_!”

Gazing skyward for strength, he and Steve walk cautiously in, but not before Bucky takes a precaution and places one of their boxes in front of the door, acting as a weight to stop it from moving.

Inside the apartment, they realize not a lot has been moved since the last time it was opened. Bucky tries not to stare at the way some of the furniture in the living room has evidence markers on it and how the lamp on the side table is chipped with a brown stain on one side. There’s a light from one of the bedrooms he realizes and he rushes forward.

Chekhov is there and he’s in front of a cupboard door, his face pale and ashy. His beady eyes are round and there’s terror painted across his face and whatever he’s seen, it seems to have rendered him incapable of speech.

“ _There_ ”, he says, pointing at the closet, “ _The door, it…it…opened. And there was someone in this room._ ”

The closet door is wide open and inside, with a quick glimpse, Bucky realises he can see textbooks, about physics and nuclear sciences. It hits him all at once that this must be Bruce’s old room. At the bottom of the closet though, that’s what gives him chills, there are candles, and incense and what appears to be small bones. And he can just barely make it out, because he doesn’t want to move any closer, that there’s a small board with letters and numbers on it. All of a sudden the tiny planchette on it begins to move, shakily going from one letter to the next. They don’t wait to see what it spells and pull Chekhov out.

Grabbing their boxes on the way, the three rush into the elevator and begin their descent.

“ _What was that_?” asks the man, mopping at his face with a handkerchief.

“ _Do you really want to find out_?” Bucky replies.

Chekhov notices the boxes in their arms, and Bucky knows he’s figured out that they’re leaving but he doesn’t say anything. As they get into the car with Sam and Riley, he says quietly to Bucky, “Tomorrow morning, I will call a priest.”

* * *

 

Six months later, he and Steve have found a new apartment far away from where they living before and Bucky’s never been happier. Steve’s finally settled into his new job and Bucky’s landed a temporary job as a teaching assistant at a local college. Steve’d been disappointed because Tony   apparently quit his job. He hadn’t even managed to say goodbye because of how quickly Tony had left. In his words, Tony had never shown up to work and he hadn’t known anyone well enough to ask. He hadn’t been able to contact him or anything and when he’d once tried asking their boss, the man had glared at him and asked if he thought he was being funny.

A few weeks later, he’d gotten a message on his phone from an unspecified number. It was Tony, telling Steve he was fine and he needed to leave for a bit. He was far away, he said, cut off from any technology so he wouldn’t be able to contact Steve.

Bucky never tells Steve that he was the one who sent that message.

Sam and Riley have fixed the date for their wedding and Steve’s been agonising over what to get them for a present. Bucky’s pretty sure the pair will be happy as long as they show up and don’t bring home any more stories of creepy potentially unfriendly spirits.

But there’s still one stone left unturned, something that he needs to settle before he moves on.

He makes up his mind one warm autumn evening and slips on his sneakers and grabs a light coat. When Steve hears him pick up his keys, he frowns at him in confusion and asks, “You’re heading out now?”

Bucky smiles and pecks his cheek before saying, “Someone I needed to see for some research. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Alright, don’t stay out too late.” Steve presses one more kiss to his forehead before heading back inside.

By the time Bucky reaches the café, Pepper’s already there, looking distinguished in a deep red shirt and black jeans. She looks up at him and smiles, but Bucky can still sense an aura of sadness that floats around her.

“Thanks for agreeing to see me Ms. Potts,” he says, sliding into the seat opposite to her.

“Please, call me Pepper. And it’s no trouble at all.”

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulled out a worn photograph, sliding it across the table to her.

“I thought you should have it.”

It’s the photo he had found in Stark’s old files. There, with Bruce’s arm slung across his shoulders stood Tony, beaming at the camera. Pepper looks shocked and Bucky slowly begins to her tell what’s been happening. By the time he’s finished, he expects Pepper to walk out, but instead she looked resigned.

“Bruce changed when he heard what happened to Tony. Tony, he… it was cancer. It spread faster than the doctors could treat it and I think Bruce took it the hardest. He changed after that and at first I didn’t believe what Natasha said, about him being possessed. But I met him once, a few months after the funeral, and he was different. There was something darker about him.”

“I didn’t realise it at first” Bucky says, “Because Steve never really talked to anyone else at his office. The brief conversations that he had, no one really bothered to tell him and everyone remembered Tony fondly, they remembered his bad habits. That’s why he couldn’t make calls and send emails, because of the electromagnetic fields. And it never struck me till much later how Tony met Bruce and Natasha, that he was a previous tenant of our apartment.”

“Tony was stubborn,” Pepper said sadly, tracing his face on the photograph, “I’m not surprised he still is.”

She looks up, “Have you told Steve?”

Bucky shakes his head, “I haven’t. How can I tell him Tony’s been dead for the last fifteen years?”

* * *

Come say hi! I'm on [Tumblr!](http://everydayindian.tumblr.com/)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never write up a horror fic at midnight. You will hate yourself. Also that's the end of this story! Thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos because this is my first foray into horror on this site and it was very encouraging! I hope you all enjoyed it!


	6. Prequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look back at the events that inspired Flicker. 
> 
> When Bruce heard the news, that he was losing his best friend, he was inconsolable. But sometimes, grief makes even the most rational of men do foolish, dangerous things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential trigger warnings in this chapter!
> 
> \- Character death - By this point in the story, you know that Tony is dead. But this chapter discusses it.  
> \- Cancer - This is a truly terrible illness. I've almost lost a cousin to leukemia and in no way wish to trivialise it.  
> \- Mentions of domestic abuse - Again linked to the previous chapters - Bruce is taken over by the darkness he messes with -

Bruce stares at Tony, not sure if he’s heard correctly. Maybe Tony’s just joking, his strange bizarre dark sense of humour. Or maybe he’s drunk, as much as Bruce would hate that. But no, he can’t smell a lick of alcohol on him and he knows for a fact that the man has kept his vow of sobriety.

“You heard me right Bruce,” Tony says quietly, staring straight ahead, over the ledge of his balcony into the empty space ahead of him.

“But… what…how?” Bruce manages to stutter out.

“Wish I could explain it, but looks like my luck ran out. Who’d have thought huh? I survived my father, far too much alcohol and Afghanistan, but the great Tony Stark will be brought to his knees by a stupid illness,” He lets out a laugh, but it’s choked and bitter and feels like everything that’s wrong with the world to Bruce.

“ ** _Don’t_** ” he says, “Don’t talk like that. There’s got to be something we can do, a second opinion, an aggressive treatment approach, something.”

“I’ve got so many second opinions on this that they made my head swim. There’s nothing else they can tell me Brucie Bear. It’s too far gone to check for any attempt at treatment. At this point all my options are palliative and spiritual.”

“Have you told Pepper?”

Tony’s silent, swirling his juice around in his glass, watching the way the sunlight glints off the end.

“You have to tell her.”

“I will. Just not immediately. I’ve made arrangements for her, transferred stocks to her name, money into offshore accounts and named her as the inheritor and CEO of the company. When this finally happens… I’m going to make sure that she’s well looked after. That she has nothing more to worry about ever again. She’s done so much for me, been through so much, I can’t put her through this too.”

Tony moves closer and drapes his arm languidly over Bruce’s shoulder. “And there’s some money put into an account for you too. Enough to fund the research I know you’ve got planned out, enough to fund a good life for you and that beautiful Russian bride of yours. But I’ll be damned if you find out anything before you need to, because I know for a fact that you’ll not accept it.”

Bruce’s eyes have clouded over.

He imagines as the clouds pass that Tony feels lighter than before, that he can smell the sickness on him.

He can’t imagine his life without his very loud, very obnoxious but very best friend.

The next few months pass by like a blur. He’d thought they would go slower, but before he knows it, he gets a call from Pepper. It’s the middle of the night and the moment he picks up and hears the tears in her voice he knows.

He sits on the edge of Tony’s bed, his friend lying in the hospital bed, far too weak, thin and pale.

He sits on one side of the bed, Tony’s left hand in his own, gripped tight. Pepper’s on the other side, unable to hide her tears. Bruce can only imagine how she’d found out and he struggles to control his own, wanting Tony to be as happy as he can till the end.

By the time everything’s over and he walks out into the hallway where Natasha is waiting for him, he feels like there’s a part of his soul that’s left. He collapses into Natasha’s arms and refuses to speak. Inside he doesn’t know how Pepper’s handling it, how she’s talking to the kindly doctor who’s come in to relay the news. Tony’s past the point of remaining at home. He needs constant professional medical attention and either they’d need to make extensive arrangements for it at their home or Pepper would need to consider permanently shifting him into the hospital.

Either way, the doctor gives him at best an approximate of a month.

“Excuse me, Mr. Banner?” a soft voice cuts through his nightmare.

He looks up and notices a tired looking nurse who’s standing to the side. Her blond hair is pulled into a tight bun but the polite smile on her face does little to hide the exhaustion in her eyes.

“I’m sorry to have to disturb you right now Mr. Banner,” the nurse continues, “But Mr. Stark had asked me to relay a message to you.”

Struggling to reign in his thoughts, he manages to ask, “Who are you?”

“My name is Sarah Rogers. I’m the nurse largely involved in Mr. Stark’s care and will continue on with his palliative care. He’d asked that I deliver this to you,” she hands him a small, discreet envelope, “and remind you that he’d be much obliged if you listened to what he had told you.”

It’s the money he had left behind for them, he thinks faintly to himself. He finds himself nodding absentmindedly at Sarah, not focusing as she leaves, stopping only to speak to a tiny boy with a shock of messy blond hair, who’d paused outside Tony’s room, a book in his hands and a look of confusion on his face.

As he rests his face in his hands, he’s unsure if things will ever be the same again.

It’s purely by luck that he stumbles onto it. He’s attending a guest lecture on campus, something about alternative religious practices. Initially, he had gone as nothing more than a token gesture. He’d been requested by the Dean to attend.

But as the talk wears on, he finds himself drawn in by the words of one of the speakers.

The man’s talking about communicating with the afterlife, about talking to spirits, about using things from the great beyond to achieve the impossible.

Bruce believes in science, thinks he can prove, things he can explain.

He’s a nuclear physicist.                                                                                                                            

Whatever this man is talking about has to be nothing but pure conjecture and nonsense.

But as he gently runs his fingers over the soft silk of his tie, once worn by Tony, he can’t help but wonder.

The next few weeks find him delving deeper and deeper into the mysteries of the unknown. He spends his nights surrounded by the dusty silence of the library, often not going home till the early hours of the morning. Natasha accepts his vague answer that he’s been working and he doesn’t feel bad about the fib.

Because if this works. If this works, he’ll find the solution to everything.

Natasha’s suspicious though, he can tell.

She’s smart, sharper than the points of the stilettos that she wears. She doesn’t mince words and asks him for the truth. But he can’t tell her, even when her voice grows louder and fiercer, even when, in the height of her emotions, the faintest detectable tinge of her Russian heritage slips back into her speech.

It doesn’t take her long to figure something out though.

She finds some of his notes hastily shoved into a book.

When she confronts him, he doesn’t deny it. How can he?

“These aren’t things you play around with!” She declares angrily, her green eyes flashing.

“Then it’s a good thing that I’m not playing.”

“I’m worried about you,” she says, her voice dropping, the fight draining from her shoulders. “You’ve changed, sometimes I feel like I can hardly recognize you. When the darkness touches you, it’s always going to leave a mark.”

He pulls her into his embrace but he doesn’t know what to say.

He wants to dismiss her worries as foolish rambling, a folktale from a small village made to dissuade people from dangerous ventures. But he thinks back to his attempts at summoning the supposedly damned creatures and he remembers how even when he failed, he sometimes felt as though he wasn’t alone. How his soul felt heavier and darker at the end of each session.

He thought about how the last time he’d gotten angry at someone, the rage had almost consumed him, white hot fury blinding him for a few precious seconds.

Perhaps he should have realised that this all-consuming rage would be too difficult to control, too difficult to direct. Whatever demon he’s tried to make a deal with isn’t too eager to let him out of his grasp. The next time he has an argument with Natasha, it quickly moves beyond a point that he can control.

He’s unable to recognize what’s happening, before his beautiful wife is gasping for breath, begging him to let go, “Bruce, you’re hurting me.”

The funeral comes and goes and Bruce meets Pepper for a short while. Her bright red and her red eyes shine brightly against the otherwise dull background. She looks at him carefully for a few seconds, before her composure cracks and she hugs him tightly.

“I know how important he was to you,” she says quietly.

She clasps his shoulders tightly and stares him straight in the eye.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” she says, “Tony wouldn’t have wanted that.”

In retrospect, he can’t help but think to himself, maybe she was right.

There’s a pool of blood near the foot of the sofa, too much blood, and the lamp lies at his feet. Natasha lying on the floor, her prone form still and pale.

His hands shake and he struggles against the growing darkness. He can’t take back what he’s done, but he can fix it before it gets worse. There’s only one way to end this and he has to do it now.

Moments later, the room is still, the door is open and it’s only a matter of time before someone discovers the scene.

A cold gust of wind rustles the thick curtains and a cool hand passes over Bruce’s brow.

“You idiot,” a voice murmurs, “You should have let me go.”

 

* * *

 

While I love Tony/Pepper, I will always have a soft spot for Science Bros.                                                         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't updated for ages! I actually landed an internship for three months but the hours are brutal. I'm out of my house everyday from around 6.50 am to 8 pm so writing has really taken a backseat.  
> I was having a slow day at work (also like, my coworkers aren't very friendly and don't like trainees so guess who's eating lunch alone T.T) and this idea popped into my head.
> 
> Hopefully now that I'm a bit more adjusted to my work schedule I'll be able to update a bit!
> 
> Here's the prequel that a few people were asking for!
> 
> Quick additional notes - Yes, Sarah and Steve had met Tony before. However Steve never makes the connection because I imagine that, as a little kid who went to visit his mom in the hospital a lot, sometimes he wouldn't remember everyone he met.  
> I changed the timeline a bit, so that rather than having Tony die two years ago, he died 15 years ago. Which also means I've tweaked a few points in the story.


End file.
